


A Little Wounded:  outtakes and omakes

by Salvia_G



Series: A Little Wounded [2]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adultery, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Kid Fic, Knife Kink, M/M, Separations, Smut, no really I mean it this time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-20
Updated: 2013-09-26
Packaged: 2017-12-20 19:38:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/891063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salvia_G/pseuds/Salvia_G
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As always, I own nothing, not Tolkien's lovely <em>The Hobbit</em> nor the Peter Jackson films inspired by the book.  </p><p>These bits and pieces all fit within the <em>A Little Wounded</em> 'verse.  They are in no particular chronological order and vary greatly in scope.  I'll add tags as they become appropriate.</p><p>1.  Bilbo/Fili.  Apparently a knife kink can be fluffy.<br/>2.  Wounded AU:  Belladonna fights to keep Bilbo with her in Hollin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Apparently a knife kink can be fluffy

Bilbo stopped and sighed as he entered the bathing room to see Fili relaxed in his steaming tub.  His sparring match with Kili must have ended sooner than expected.  Fili’s face and body were flushed from the heat of the water; his eyes were closed; his hair hung wet and loose around his shoulders.  He was beautiful, and Bilbo’s body stirred to see him so.  Bilbo retreated to their bedroom.  There was something he had been waiting to try, and this seemed an opportune time.

 

When he returned a short time later, Fili had not moved.  Bilbo quietly removed his own clothing and took up a nearby towel.  He approached the tub.

 

“Fili,” he chided, “it is not safe to stay in the water when you are so weary.”

 

“‘M not sleepy, just exhausted,” Fili replied.  Despite his words, his voice _sounded_ sleepy.  “Dwalin ran us round the ring.”  He cracked an eye open, and sat up a bit, his face taking on a sultry look.  “You look ready to join me,” he said.

 

Bilbo leaned over him and kissed him.  Fili’s eyes closed again, and he tilted his head back to allow Bilbo greater access to his mouth.

 

“I thought I might,” Bilbo said.  “You look so appetizing.”

 

Fili moaned and stretched higher out of the tub, reaching for Bilbo.

 

“Oh, please do,” he said.  Bilbo kissed him again, and set his small burden on the small stone table next to the tub.

 

“Sit up,” Bilbo said.  “All the way, please, with your arms behind you, over the edge of the tub.”

 

Fili’s face became questioning, but he did as Bilbo asked.  Bilbo placed one end of the towel in each of Fili’s hands, so that it stretched between them, and Fili’s chest was held open for his perusal.

 

“Is that comfortable?” he asked, smoothing the hair back from Fili’s face.  Fili rolled his shoulders a bit, and flexed his arms.  _Beautiful_ , Bilbo thought.  _So beautiful._

 

“Yes,” Fili said.  “Come into the water, Bilbo.”

 

“I am,” Bilbo told him.  He clambered over the edge of the tub and hissed a bit at the heat of the water.  He moved to stand between Fili’s opened legs, and leaned slightly into Fili, so that he must tilt his head back and look up to meet Bilbo’s eyes.

 

“Don’t let go of that towel,” Bilbo said.  “And you must say if you want to stop.”

 

Fili grinned, his eyes hooded; and he inhaled, so that his chest swelled forward to touch Bilbo’s abdomen.

 

“I like the sound of this,” he said.  He stretched up to kiss Bilbo; and Bilbo lowered his body onto Fili’s, so that they might linger thus, their mouths moving together.  It was not long before Fili moaned again, his hips moving in helpless little thrusts against Bilbo.  He wrapped his legs around Bilbo and pulled him close.  Bilbo gasped and pulled away.

 

“Not yet,” he told Fili.  “I want to try something.”

 

“I thought we were trying something,” Fili groaned, and tried to pull Bilbo close again with his legs.

 

Bilbo tilted Fili’s chin up.

 

“I think you’ll like it,” he coaxed.  “May I?”  He gestured to the table.

 

Fili looked, and gasped, and his hips rolled up towards Bilbo.

 

“Oh, Mahal, _yes_ ,” he moaned.  “Oh, _please_!”

 

Bilbo smiled.  His sweet, eager Fili...

 

“You must not move,” Bilbo cautioned.  “You must hold as still as you can.”

 

Fili took several deep breaths, as if to calm himself, and pulled his body back against the wall of the tub.  He held his body very still, only his chest moving gently as he breathed.

 

“Oh Mahal,” he said.  “I will try.”  Bilbo held Fili’s face in his hands and kissed him.

 

“If you cannot, we will stop,” Bilbo said.  Fili nodded.

 

Bilbo reached for the soap, and began to rub it into the pelt of curls that covered Fili’s chest, caressing as suds began to form and cling to Fili.  Fili closed his eyes and breathed slowly.  When Bilbo was satisfied, he set the soap down, and rinsed and dried his hands, and picked up Fili’s knife.

 

“Still,” he told Fili.  “Hold as still as you can.”  Again, Fili nodded.  Carefully, so carefully, Bilbo brought the flat of the knife blade to Fili’s chest.  Fili held his breath, so that even the slow movement of his chest stopped.  Bilbo chuckled.

 

“I think you can breath,” he said.

 

“I’m not sure I can,” Fili replied shakily.  “Please, Bilbo.  Please keep going.”

 

Bilbo kissed Fili’s forehead, and then his temple, and then took his mouth.

 

“Breathe,” he whispered, his lips touching Fili’s; and then he stood up again, and turned the knife so that the edge of the blade rested against Fili’s skin.  In a slow, careful movement, he scraped the knife across a few inches of Fili’s chest, shaving away the soapy curls.  Fili gasped, but his chest did not jump under Bilbo’s hand.  Bilbo rinsed the knife and repeated his careful slide across Fili’s chest.

 

By the time Bilbo had cleared the hair surrounding one nipple, he had to stop.  Fili was gasping and moaning under the blade, and he was clearly trying to stay still, but as his breath became uneven his chest heaved.  Bilbo set the knife aside, and took Fili’s nipple in his fingers, rolling gently.

 

“So beautiful,” he said.  “So beautiful like this.”  He curled his other hand into the hair at Fili’s neck, and leaned in.  “You can move,” he added against Fili’s lips, and pressed into his mouth.  Fili moaned and must have dropped the towel, because Bilbo felt his arms and legs wrap around Bilbo and pull him close.  He was wild against Bilbo’s mouth, and as Bilbo moved down to kiss his neck, he threw his head back and moaned again.

 

“Mahal,” he moaned.  “Mahal, Bilbo—oh—please, oh Mahal!”  He panted and moaned and rutted madly against Bilbo.  _Valar_ , thought Bilbo.  _We neither of us will last much longer._   Bilbo settled his body in close to Fili and rocked against him.  His hand clenched tight on Fili’s nape, and he bit down gently on Fili’s neck as he pinched Fili’s bare nipple.  Fili moaned loudly, and moved frantically against Bilbo, and it seemed only moments later that he came.  He gasped and panted in the aftermath; and Bilbo soothed him down, the hand on his nape gently massaging, his other hand coming up to stroke down Fili’s arm, and then sink into Fili’s hair as well.  He was hard against Fili, but he held himself still as he calmed Fili down.

 

“So beautiful,” he murmured against Fili’s temple.  “So good to me.”

 

Fili’s hands moved to Bilbo’s face, and he turned to seek his lips.

 

“Mahal, Bilbo,” he panted quietly as they broke their kiss.  “Oh, Mahal.  It is you who are good to me.”

 

Bilbo kissed him again, and then he leaned down and out of the tub.  He couldn’t quite reach the towel.  _This is awkward_ , he thought.  Groaning, he climbed out of the tub, and picked up the towel, his hard cock bouncing against his belly.

 

“Can you continue?” he asked Fili.  “We’re only half done.”

 

Fili lolled back against the tub.

 

“Mahal, Bilbo, you’ll kill me,” he moaned.  Bilbo smiled and nuzzled into Fili’s ear.

 

“We can stop here,” he said.  “Though if Kili sees you like this, I suspect you’ll never hear the end of it.”

 

“I’m never going to hear the end of it if he learns you’ve shaved me, half done or not,” Fili replied, grinning.  “But somehow I can’t care.”  He reached out to Bilbo.  “Come finish what you started.”

 

“Then give me your arms again,” Bilbo said, “and hold onto this towel.”

 

Fili’s orgasm had left him limp and relaxed.  He leaned his head back against the tub and let his body float gently in the water as Bilbo finished shaving his chest.  When Bilbo was done, he carefully wiped off Fili’s knife and set it back on the table.

 

“If you could see yourself,” Bilbo told him, as he caressed Fili’s smooth chest.  He moved in close between Fili’s legs and rutted gently against him.

 

“You haven’t come,” Fili lazily observed.

 

“No,” Bilbo said.  “But I will.”  He continued to rut against Fili, rolling his hips and tilting his head back.  “The only question is where.”

 

“Mmm,” Fili said.  “Let’s go to bed.”

 

As they dashed down the hall, wrapped only in their towels, Kili came out of his bedroom. 

 

“It’s about time, Fili,” he groused.  “I’ve been waiting for at least an hour!”  He saw Fili’s chest, and Bilbo, and began to laugh.  “Oh,” he cried.  “This was _worth_ the wait!  What did you _do_ to him, Bilbo?”

 

Bilbo made a face at Kili and hustled Fili down to their bedroom.  As he shut the door behind him and Fili, he could hear Kili’s raised voice.

 

“Mahal, you two,” he yelled.  “Couldn’t you have cleaned the tub?  This is disgusting!”

 

Fili began to laugh helplessly against Bilbo, who tugged him over to the bed.

 

“Not done with you,” Bilbo murmured, and pulled Fili down on top of him.  He was not; he would never be done with Fili.


	2. Wounded AU:  Belladonna fights to keep Bilbo

_Wounded_ AU:  Bilbo stays with Belladonna

 

 

Bilbo was five years old when he met the king of Moria.  Mama and Da had had an awful fight a few days before—Da had yelled, which Bilbo had _never_ heard before, and then Mama had been gone again; Bilbo thought she must have had another ‘venture.  But after only one night gone she was back, and she had two Dwarves with her, and when she introduced one of them she said he was the king.

 

Bilbo was pretty impressed with the king; he had a crown (though Bilbo had thought a king’s crown would be bigger) and a fancy coat with a fur collar and Khuzdul embroidered all along the edges, and his beard was good too:  not as many braids as some, but thick and dark and with interesting beads in it.  The other Dwarf was not nearly so fancy; his soberly coloured practical clothing with metal bits on it, his size, and most of all the weapons strapped to his back told Bilbo that he was a warrior Dwarf.  Bilbo thought he might be the king’s guard.  He had lots of interesting tattoos, and he was happy to show them to Bilbo until Da sent Bilbo off to his bedroom to look at books while the grownups talked.

 

Bilbo hated being sent to his room while the grownups talked. 

 

So instead of staying in his bed with his picture books, Bilbo snuck back down the hall to Da’s library and hid just behind the door.  He could hear the discussion in the parlour pretty well from there.

 

“...not done in the Shire,” Da was saying.

 

“Perhaps not, but I think neither is taking a child from his mother,” one of the Dwarves said.  Bilbo couldn’t see to tell if it was the king or the other one—his guard.  “Do you think that the Thain will stand against this?  There are provisions in the treaty that prohibit forced immigration—to either side.  He would risk the entire Treaty of the Brandywine.”

 

“You would invoke the Treaty over this?” Da sounded incredulous.  There was quiet for a long time, then Mama spoke.

 

“Bungo, won’t you please reconsider?” she asked.  “I do not want to lose either of you.  I love you as much as I ever have, and our lives need not be so different than what they were before.”  Da laughed then, but it was a funny laugh that didn’t sound happy at all.

 

“If you have loved me so little this whole time, all the more reason for me to go,” he said.  “I could not have been much in your mind while you were gone, or this wouldn’t have happened.”

 

“I promise you—“ Mama began, but Da interrupted.

 

“I am well aware of the value of your promises, Belladonna,” he said, “you have broken several rather important ones that you made me.  I won’t hear any more of them from you.”  It sounded like Mama began to cry then, but Da didn’t stop to comfort her; he kept talking.  “And now you’ve brought the king of Khazad-dûm to bully me.  And you, sir—if this is the way you rule, I shouldn’t care to stay anyway.  This should be a private matter for a family, not something in which a king interferes.”  Da sighed.  “No.  I must go.  But you’ve won this much with your coercion:  I’ll not take Bilbo with me, though I expect that every summer he’ll come to the Shire to stay with me.  And don’t think I won’t go to the Thain if you try to keep him entirely away from me.  Maybe the Hobbits of the Shire can’t force the king of Moria to action, but it wouldn’t be comfortable here for a while.  I shouldn’t think you’d care for it to be known that Moria’s king found it necessary to involve himself in the dissolution of a marriage—a Hobbit marriage, no less.”

 

“Your understanding and cordiality are much to be admired; this is of course very difficult for you,” the Dwarf said, though Bilbo thought he sounded a bit angry.

 

“You’ll forgive me, your Majesty, if I find I value your opinion less than I used to; but I had always heard before that the king of Moria was a wise and just Dwarf.  Belladonna, I’ll leave in five days.  Until then I’d thank you to stay away,” Da said.

 

“You can’t keep me away from Bilbo!” Ma stated angrily.

 

“You’re keeping him away from me nine months out of the year,” Da told her.  “I think you can give me five days with him before I leave.  I trust you can all let yourselves out?  It is late, and I find myself disinclined to entertain guests at this time.”  Bilbo shrunk back as Da passed the library on his way down the hall, but Da didn’t see him.

 

“Dwalin, Mistress Baggins, I will take my leave now,” the Dwarf said, the one who must be the king, for Da had called him ‘your Majesty.’  “I hope you will need my involvement in this matter no longer.  I find it leaves an ugly taste in my mouth.”  If Bilbo had thought the Dwarf sounded a bit serious and scary before, now he thought he sounded positively unfriendly.  Why had he come if he wasn’t friends with Mama and Da?

 

“Thorin,” the other Dwarf said—he must be Dwalin—but then Bilbo heard the sound of the door opening and shutting.  The king had gone.  But why had he left his guard behind?  It made no sense to Bilbo.

 

“Oh, Dwalin,” Mama said.  “I am so sorry!  I do not want this to damage your friendship!  But I didn’t know how else to stop Bungo, and when you suggested this...”

 

“Don’t trouble yourself about it, Bella,” Dwalin said.  “He’s angry now, but he’ll get over it.  And you’ll keep Bilbo, which is the important thing.”  Mama began to cry again.

 

“I never wanted it this way!” she cried.  “Never!”  The sounds of her crying were muffled then, and Bilbo quietly crept out from behind the library door and down the hall to peek into the parlour.  The Dwarf—Dwalin—had his arms around Mama and she was crying into his shoulder.  Bilbo tiptoed back down to his room.  He climbed back into his bed, but he couldn’t concentrate on his book.

 

What was happening?  It seemed that Da and Mama were still fighting, and what they were fighting about was Bilbo.  It must be his fault.  But what had he done?  Bilbo searched his mind, but he couldn’t think what it could be...unless it was because he got the floor muddy this morning, when he came in to elevenses from playing in the garden?  He had picked up all his toys when Da told him to, hadn’t he?  But it couldn’t be that, because Da and Mama started fighting three days ago, the day after she came back from her ‘venture.  Bilbo and Da had been so excited; it had been almost a whole year since Mama left.  He had learnt to write out ‘Mama’ while she was gone, and write his numbers all the way to ten, and all his letters—every single one!  But he hadn’t had a chance to show her yet, because Mama and Da had fought and then Mama was gone and now when she came back she had two Dwarves with her, and one of them was the king, and Da was going somewhere.

 

Wouldn’t Da live with them anymore?  Bilbo must have done something very bad while Mama was gone on her ‘venture.

 

He hid under his pillow and cried quietly.  He didn’t know what he’d done, but Da must be very angry not to want to live with them anymore.

 

In the morning he didn’t remember at first, only when he went into the kitchen for first breakfast, Da hadn’t made oatmeal like he usually did, only toasted yesterday’s bread; and he didn’t greet Bilbo with a happy “good morning!” either but only sat looking out the window.  Bilbo took a piece of toast and spread jam on it and took it to the table.

 

“Good morning, Da,” he said quietly.  Da turned and seemed surprised to see Bilbo there.

 

“I didn’t hear one whisper of you getting out of bed, Bilbo,” Da said.  “What a quiet fauntling you are this morning!”  And Da gathered Bilbo up into his arms, and kissed his forehead.

 

Da didn’t seem mad to Bilbo at all; he seemed sad, maybe...  But why?  Bilbo had thought a long time about it, and he was pretty sure he had been mostly good while Mama had her ‘venture.  But there must have been something.

 

“I’m sorry, Da,” he tried.  “I won’t do it again.”  Da gave him a puzzled look.

 

“Why shouldn’t you be quiet sometimes, Bilbo-button?  Half-Baggins means you come by that naturally.  Bagginses are some of the quietest Hobbits in the Shire,” Da said.  “I snuck up behind my mother one day, when I was about your age, and hid behind her for five minutes before she realised I was there.”  He smiled.  “Oh, how your Gram was startled!  She screamed so loudly I took a fright and ran off to hide in the garden, but she was laughing like a loon when she finally found me.”

 

“I meant about whatever I did,” Bilbo said.  Da raised an eyebrow at him.

 

“Is there something I should know?” he asked.  “Because I can’t think of any trouble you’ve been in lately; so whatever it is, you were getting away with it.”  Bilbo didn’t understand at all.

 

“I thought you were mad at me,” he told Da.  “If you won’t be mad at me, I won’t get into any more trouble.  I’ll be so, so good, Da.”  Da’s puzzled look had come back.

 

“That’s good to hear, Bilbo,” Da said.  “Now finish your first breakfast and put your plate in the sink; then you can build a great tower with your blocks and show me when you’re done with it.  I have a few things I’ll be busy with today, so if you could play quietly, that would be a big help to me.”  Bilbo nodded solemnly.

 

“I’ll be so quiet,” Bilbo whispered.  “I’ll start right now.”  Da laughed a little, but he still sounded a bit sad.

 

“That’s my boy,” he said, and he kissed Bilbo again before sliding Bilbo off his lap into the chair next to his.  He left the table and went into his library.  He didn’t shut the door, though, like he did when he was reading; so when Bilbo went to his room to play with his blocks he peeked inside.  Da was taking his books off the shelf and putting them in some boxes.  That was a strange thing for Da to be doing, Bilbo thought.  Was he done with his books?  And then Bilbo realised:  Da was packing up his library to take with him when he left.

 

Bilbo had promised to be good, but Da was still leaving. 

 

Bilbo went to his room to think about what to do.  Bilbo’s bed was high enough that he could fit under it, and the dust ruffle hid him from view; it was a good place to go when he needed to be quiet and think.  He slid under there now.  After a moment he slid back out to pull Twibbity off his bed and went back under.  Twibbity didn’t help him think, but hugging him helped Bilbo feel a bit better.

 

When Da called Bilbo for second breakfast, Bilbo still hadn’t thought of anything.  He pushed his eggs around his plate and Da didn’t even notice to scold him or remember to ask about his block tower.  He only ate his own second breakfast without speaking, ruffled Bilbo’s hair, then went back to packing up his library.  Bilbo went back to hiding under his bed with Twibbity.  He thought very, very hard about everything he had heard the night before.

 

At elevenses, Bilbo told Da he was going to have a ‘venture until lunchtime.  ‘Venture was one of Bilbo’s favourite games; he imagined that he was with Mama on her ‘venture, helping her do ‘venture stuff.  He felt close to his Mama when he played it, and so he had played often while she had been gone.  ‘Venture usually meant explore down to Haver Took’s place (but no farther, Da always said), or climb the young oak tree down the lane, or if cousin Fortinbras would go with him then they could go as far as the creek that flowed past Fort’s house and west out of Hollin.  Da’s smile was so sad...but he said Bilbo could go ‘venturing; and Bilbo had figured out a way to fix things.

 

He took Twibbity with him for courage; he had never been to Khazad-dûm before.  But his da was a Baggins and his mama an adventuring Took; and so Bilbo would be bold and brave when he grew up, and this would be good practice for then.  And it was easy, if he just pretended it was another ‘venture.  The road into Hollin was one he had traversed many times before going to market with Mama or Da, and the market was to the left past Uncle Isengrim’s, so the road to the right must be the way to Khazad-dûm.

 

Luck was with him, for he didn’t encounter any relatives—Uncle Isengrim in particular, he knew, had lots of business in the mountain.  And some Hobbits on the road may have looked at him a bit strangely; but then Bilbo figured out that he should follow behind a Dwobbit family that was making the trek as well, just far enough back that he looked like he belonged with them but was lagging behind.  The mother was so busy with her little baby that she didn’t notice Bilbo at all, and the other children noticed Bilbo but never told her he was following them.

 

It was such a long way, though!  Bilbo had never been for such a long walk before.  His feet hurt a lot when they finally arrived at the Doors of Durin.  But then Bilbo forgot how much his feet hurt to stop and stare; the Doors were amazing!  The carving was so thin and fine, and it glowed so bright when they opened...  But once he was inside Khazad-dûm Bilbo wasn’t sure what to do.  Past the guards at the gate the entry road opened up into a great hall which seemed to go up and up forever, and then the road branched off the main way in either direction, so that Bilbo could go straight ahead _or_ right _or_ left.  He looked around, bit his lip, and thought.  Finally he decided to go back to the Gate.  He tugged on the coat of one of the Dwarf guards.  The guard seemed surprised to see him, as if Bilbo had come out of nowhere; but Bilbo hadn’t been trying to sneak at all!

 

“Where did you come from, _mimel_?” the guard asked him.

 

“Hollin,” Bilbo answered seriously.  “I’ve come to see the king but I don’t know which way to go.”  The guard seemed to be trying not to smile, but he wasn’t very good at it.

 

“Come to see the king, have you?” he asked.  “I don’t know if he has open court today.”  The guard seemed to look around then.  “Where is your _amad_ or your _adad_ , _mimel_?”

 

“Da’s at home in Hollin,” Bilbo said.  “I don’t know where Mama went.”  The guard looked serious then.  He said a few words to his partner—Bilbo only heard the words ‘lost’ and ‘captain’—then offered Bilbo his hand.

 

“Come with me,” he said.  “We’ll find your _amad_ before you know it.  I know just the Dwarf to do it.”

 

Bilbo tried to explain that he needed to find the king, not his mama; but the guard wasn’t listening anymore.  He led Bilbo along the ways until they reached a busy building with many Dwarves and Dwobbits going in and out, and many of them seemed to be guards.  Once they were inside, the Gate guard said a few words to one of the other guards; she pointed him down a hall, and Bilbo and the guard went that way.  It all would have been very interesting at another time, but Bilbo had not even found the king yet, and this ‘venture had taken a long time.  Da would miss him if he wasn’t back in time for lunch, and Bilbo thought it might be coming up on lunchtime because he was feeling rather hungry now that he thought about it.

 

But then Bilbo had a bit of luck, because they passed by a room with an open door, and the king’s guard—Dwalin—was inside, deep in conversation with several other Dwarves and one Dwobbit.  Bilbo pulled away from the guard who was leading him and ducked into the room where Dwalin was. 

 

“ _Mimel,_ ” the guard called and tried to grab Bilbo, but Bilbo was too fast for him.  He ran right up to the Dwarf named Dwalin and hid behind him as the Gate guard tried to catch him.  “I’m sorry to interrupt,” the guard told them.  “The _mimel_ came to the Gate and said he was lost, so I was taking him to the Captain until his mother could be found.”  That wasn’t true at all! Bilbo thought, and he told them so.

 

“No, I came to see the king,” Bilbo said stoutly.  He slipped his hand into Dwalin’s and looked up at him seriously.  “Can you take me to him?  It’s very important.”  Dwalin’s face looked red and very funny, but not like the guard when he had tried not to smile; it was a different kind of strange face.  But Dwalin turned to the Gate guard.

 

“It’s all right, Tholdreag,” he said.  “I know his mother.  You may return to your post.”

The guard nodded and left, and Dwalin knelt down to meet Bilbo’s eyes.

 

“Bilbo,” he said.  “What are you doing here?  Does your _adad_ know where you are?”

 

Bilbo scowled.  He was _so_ disappointed.  Why did adults never listen?

 

“I told you already,” he told Dwalin.  “I came to see the king.  But then once I got here I didn’t know the way.  So I asked that guard and he brought me here.”

 

“Does your _adad_ know where you are, Bilbo?” Dwalin repeated sternly.  Bilbo bit his lip and shook his head.

 

“I did tell him I was having a ‘venture,” he said.  “But I didn’t tell him _where_.”  He lowered his voice to a whisper.  “I’m not s’posed to go so far from home.”  Dwalin sighed and closed his eyes briefly, then stood and excused himself from his meeting before he took Bilbo’s hand again and led him back to the front part of the building.  He went over to one of the young Dwarves mingling by the door.

 

“I need you to run down to Hollin, to the Baggins smial, to find a Hobbit named Bungo Baggins; tell him his son is safe and on his way home,” Dwalin told the Dwarf.  But then, “No, wait a moment,” he said, and turned back to Bilbo.  “Bilbo, when did you leave?”

 

“Elevenses,” Bilbo told him.  “Is it lunchtime yet?  Da will be mad with me if I’m not home by lunchtime.”  Dwalin closed his eyes again.

 

“Mahal help me,” he muttered.  Bilbo’s eyes grew wide.  Hobbits didn’t swear by Mahal, and Dwobbits were about half and half, but Dwarves did, and—Bilbo tugged on Dwalin’s hand.

 

“Dwalin,” he whispered.  “I don’t think you’re s’posed to say that.”

 

“No, _mimel_ , probably not,” Dwalin said tiredly.  “Tell him we’ll give him tea then bring him home.”  Bilbo was a little shocked and very worried.

 

“Did I miss lunch?” he asked, and when Dwalin nodded he pulled at him.  “Da’s going to be so mad at me!”  he said.  “Let’s go see the king right now, and then I’ll go home.  I won’t have tea even!  Da’s going to be so mad...”  His voice trailed off.  Dwalin knelt down to talk to him again.

 

“Bilbo, you can’t go see the king,” he said.  “How did you get it in your head?”

 

“Please, Dwalin, I have to!  He has to listen to me!” Bilbo begged.  But Dwalin shook his head.

 

“The king is very busy, _mimel_ , and your _adad_ will be very worried by now,” he said.  “Let’s get you something to eat and then I’ll take you home.”  Bilbo frowned and looked carefully at Dwalin.  He meant it.  He wouldn’t take Bilbo to see the king, not one little bit.  Bilbo waited until Dwalin turned away to speak to one of the young Dwarves about bringing Bilbo something to eat, and then he ran out the door back into the heart of Khazad-dûm.  He could hear Dwalin cursing behind him (and he knew lots worse things to say than _Mahal help me_ ), but Bilbo ducked and ran.  He would find the king somehow.

 

But Khazad-dûm was twisty and turny and confusing; and Bilbo not only did not find the king, but was soon lost.  The guards were all out looking for him, too; but there Khazad-dûm helped Bilbo, because there were lots of nooks and statues and things to hide in and behind and around.  Once Bilbo saw Dwalin; and he looked _so_ mad and worried, just as much as Mama or Da would look, even; but though he felt bad Bilbo hid instead of going over to him.  After he had passed by, Bilbo went back the way he had come from; he thought Dwalin would not come back a way he had already checked.  After a while there was a good place for Bilbo to hide:  an entry way, gated off, and with lots of statues and things to hide behind too; and while the gate might have kept out an adult or a Dwarf child, Bilbo slipped through the bars easily.  He found a good place to sit between two large vases and thought.

 

After a while, he and Twibbity lay down.  He was hungry, but he was awfully tired too.  He thought it would be fine to close his eyes just for a moment while he was thinking what to do next.

 

The next thing he knew, he was being pulled out from between the vases and into a handsome Dwarrowdam’s arms.

 

“Where did you come from, _mimel_?” she asked.  “How did you get in here?”  Bilbo yawned.

 

“Everyone asks that,” he told her sleepily.  “I came from Hollin, of course.  And I came in through the gate.  I’m sorry if I wasn’t allowed.”

 

“It’s all right, _mimel_ , you’re not in trouble,” the Dwarrowdam said.  “But if I may ask, when you say you came through the gate:  was it open?”

 

“No,” Bilbo shook his head.  “I fit right through the bars.  It was easy.”

 

“Mahal bless,” he heard her mutter beneath her breath.  It must not be as bad to swear by Mahal as Bilbo had thought it was if first Dwalin did it and now this lady.  She stood and carried Bilbo on her hip to the door.  “I think you’d best come with me,” she said as she pressed her entry pattern into the stars and crowns carved into the archway’s frame.  This must be her house.  She didn’t put him down once they were in, either, but carried him straight through to the kitchen instead and set him on the counter.

 

“ _Amad_?” he heard a young voice call from further in the house.

 

“I’m in the kitchen,” she called back.  “I have a little mystery on my hands.”

 

“Sounds fun!” the voice returned, and Bilbo heard footsteps coming their way quickly, and then a young Dwarf popped into the kitchen.  Bilbo didn’t know well enough to judge how old a Dwarf was by looking, but he wasn’t a child or an adult; he was somewhere in between—a teen or a tween by Hobbit reckoning.  He looked happy and friendly, and his tangled hair was very different from the Dwarrowdam’s beautifully beaded and braided locks; but something in the shape of his face told Bilbo that this was the Dwarrowdam’s son.

 

“Look what I found in the _medune_ ,” she told the Dwarf, gesturing to Bilbo.  “You didn’t see him when you came in?”  The Dwarf shook his head.

 

“Where was he?  _Inside_ the _medune_?  How?” he asked.  The Dwarrowdam smiled wryly.

 

“He said he fits in between the bars,” she said.  “A clear breach in our security.  I will inform the guard to be on the lookout for assassins and malcontents disguised as Hobbit fauntlings.”  Bilbo tugged gently on her sleeve, and she looked at him.

 

“I’m not a ‘ssassin,” he said gravely, “so you needn’t worry there.  But I don’t know what a malcontent is; I might be one of those.”  The Dwarrowdam smiled warmly at him, and the young Dwarf burst out into gay laughter.

 

“Oh, what a _habankurdith_ he is,” the Dwarf exclaimed.  “Can we keep him?”

 

“He is not a puppy, Kili; he has a family,” the Dwarrowdam replied.  “But you may help me find them, and entertain our _habankurdith_ in the meantime.  Now.”  She turned to Bilbo.  “Tell me your name, _mimel_ ; and would you like something to eat?”

 

“I’m Bilbo,” Bilbo said.  “And yes please.  I don’t know what time it is now, but I haven’t eaten since elevenses.”

 

“Just Bilbo?” the Dwarrowdam asked, and handed Bilbo to Kili while she began to gather up things from here and there all around the kitchen.  Kili seemed completely charmed by Bilbo, and _he_ seemed nice, too; but Bilbo still wasn’t sure about him.  Fortinbras was a teen, too; and sometimes he was so nice and great fun, but sometimes he told Bilbo to stop following him around and called him a pestering tadpole.  So you never could tell with teens.

 

The Dwarrowdam had put together a very nice tea tray for Bilbo, and she gestured Kili to set him down on one of the chairs tucked in under the table, but instead Kili sat down himself and kept Bilbo on his lap.

 

“Your whole name?” the Dwarrowdam prompted Bilbo again.

 

“Bilbo Baggins,” he told her, and then continued, just the way Mama and Da had taught him.  “Thank you for the lovely tea.  This all looks quite delicious.”  Carefully he chose a roll and some cheese to put on his plate.  There were some little cured fish, too; Bilbo really didn’t want to, but he knew it would be very rude not to try some.  So he chose the littlest one, and the Dwarrowdam handed him a big glass of milk as well.

 

“I welcome you to our home, Bilbo Baggins,” the Dwarrowdam said.  “I am Dís, and this is my son Kili.  I have another son, but he trains with his instructor at swordplay at this hour.”  Bilbo tried to remember what Da would say when he met someone for the first time.

 

“It’s an honour to make your ‘quantaince, ma’am,” he tried.  That sounded mostly right, and they smiled at him, so it must be close enough.  Bilbo smiled back shyly; they were quite the best part of this day, which hadn’t turned out nearly the way Bilbo had planned.  He used his fork to break off the tiniest piece of fish possible and took a bite.  It was _very_ salty, but not bad.  Bilbo tried another bite.

 

“And you said you were from Hollin, Bilbo?” Dís asked.  “What brings you into Khazad-dûm, then?  Were you separated from your parents, or did you become lost?”

 

“I didn’t come with my parents; I came by myself,” Bilbo told them.  “I need to see the king.  It’s very important.”

 

“Came by himself all the way from Hollin to see the king!” Kili exclaimed.  “This gets better and better!  How old are you, _habankurdith_?”

 

“Five,” Bilbo answered between bites of his roll.  He wished there was butter and jam, but Dís hadn’t given him any, and he thought it probably wasn’t polite to ask for some.

 

“And why is it that you must see the king?” Dís asked.  “He is not accustomed to delegations of five year old fauntlings, I think.”

 

“He’s sending my da away,” Bilbo said seriously.  “I’ve come to ask him please not to.”  Dís’ eyebrows flew so high up her forehead!

 

“He’s banished your father?  A Hobbit, yes?” she asked incredulously.

 

“Yes,” Bilbo said.  “Da has to leave in five days.”  She and Kili exchanged a long look, and Bilbo didn’t know what it meant, but Dís sat down at the table next to him and Kili and took his hands in hers.

 

“Will you tell me more, _mimel_?” she asked.  Bilbo nodded seriously, and she continued.  “Who told you the king had banished your _adad_?”

 

“I heard him do it,” Bilbo said.  “Last night when he came to visit.  He and Mama and Da and his guard were all in the parlour, and he said there was a treaty, and Mama said Da should consider so she didn’t lose him, and Da said Mama had promised that the king would be a bully but the king wouldn’t want Hobbits to know he had dissoluted a marriage, and the king said Da was very polite.  And then Da went to bed and the king said goodbye and left.”

 

Kili’s shoulders were shaking behind him, though he didn’t make a sound; when Bilbo twisted to look at him his face was red and his lips were pursed together and his eyes squeezed shut.

 

“Are you okay, Kili?” Bilbo asked, concerned.  “Only you look a little like you ate a hot pepper.”  At that, Kili’s shoulders shook even more, and little bursts of sound escaped his mouth—he was laughing, Bilbo realised angrily.

 

“It’s not funny!” Bilbo cried.  Dís patted him on the hand and gave Kili _such_ a look over Bilbo’s head; and Kili subsided, though occasionally Bilbo could still feel his shoulders jerk like he was trying to hold in laughter.

 

“How did you know it was the king, Bilbo?” Dís asked him.

 

“Mama said so when she introduced him,” Bilbo told her.  “She said, ‘Your Majesty, this is my son, Bilbo,’ and then she said, ‘Bilbo, can you give the king a bow?  This is Thorin Oakenshield, king of Moria.’”

 

“She did, did she?” Dís asked, and Bilbo nodded.

 

“But Da made me leave soon after that; so I missed a bit between then and when I snuck into the library to listen,” he told her.  “That must have been when the king explained about the ba.  Banish-shed.”  He looked to Dís to see if he had said the word correctly, and she nodded.

 

“Thank you, Bilbo,” she said.  “You explained that very clearly.”  Kili’s shoulders jerked behind Bilbo again, and Bilbo turned to frown at him.

 

“Sorry, _habankurdith_ ,” Kili said.  “I know it’s not funny.”  He looked at his mother.  “What under the mountain, _Amad_?”  Dís shook her head.

 

“I don’t know,” she replied.  “But I do find myself curious as to your uncle’s whereabouts last night.  I think perhaps a bit more investigation is required.”  They fell silent then, and watched Bilbo finish his tea.  When Bilbo was just finished, they heard the sound of the door opening, and Dís went to the front room to see who it was.  Kili hoisted Bilbo up on his hip and followed.  Bilbo took the opportunity to examine Kili’s chin:  he didn’t have one little speck of beard.  Not one.  Bilbo wondered if perhaps Kili was a Dwobbit instead of a Dwarf the way Bilbo had originally thought.

 

A blond Dwarf with just the beginnings of a beard was closing the door behind himself.  He wore two swords on his back, and he began to speak to Dís at the same time as he removed his swords.

 

“You won’t guess, _Amad_ ,” he said.  “Dwalin couldn’t teach me today because there’s a Hobbit fauntling lost in Khazad-dûm...”  His voice trailed off as he saw Bilbo looking at him from his perch on Kili’s hip.  “Perhaps you would guess after all.  Is this him?”

 

Dís nodded.  “I suspect so,” she said, “but we have only just heard little Bilbo’s story, and there are some rather confusing aspects to it.  But Bilbo did say that he came under the mountain by himself, without either _adad_ or _amad_.”

 

“He’s five,” Kili added.  “And he says he came to see uncle, because he’s banished Bilbo’s father.”

 

“Banished a Hobbit!” the blond Dwarf exclaimed.  “What would a Hobbit have possibly done to require banishment?”

 

“So you have not heard of this before either?” Dís asked.  “Thorin didn’t say anything to me, but I haven’t seen him since yesterday morning.  So I thought perhaps something had happened since then.”  They talked some more, but Bilbo was a bit sleepy again now that his tummy was full and he didn’t understand the conversation, so he laid his head down on Kili’s shoulder.  Kili gently rubbed his back in response.

 

“Are you tired, _habankurdith_?” he asked Bilbo.  “Let’s go sit over here, and you can rest while _Amad_ figures out what to do.”  He carried Bilbo over to a couch across the room.  A fire burned beside it, and Kili picked up a soft fur to drape over Bilbo, but he didn’t just lay Bilbo down, he sat down and arranged Bilbo so that Bilbo’s head was pillowed in his lap and Bilbo’s body lay on the couch.  His hand carded softly through Bilbo’s curls, and Bilbo closed his eyes.  He was warm and full and worn from his difficult afternoon, and he drifted off to the sound of the Dwarves’ low voices.

 

He didn’t know how much later it was when Dís woke him.

 

“Bilbo?” she said.  “Bilbo, the king is here to see you.”  Bilbo pushed himself up out of Kili’s lap (somehow, he had ended up all curled in a little ball there) to look at her.

 

“The king?  Truly?” he asked.  Dís nodded. 

 

“And we have sent someone to the guard station to find your parents,” she said.  “So we will speak to the king; and then your parents will come or someone will take you to them; and then, I think, it will be time for you to go to bed after this very exciting day you have had.”  She stood up from where she had been kneeling to speak to Bilbo and nodded to Fili, who left the room in the direction of the kitchen; and when he came back a few minutes later, the king was with him.

 

Now that it came time for him to finally speak to the king, Bilbo was terribly nervous.  What if he said something wrong?  What if the king decided to banish-shed him, too?  But Bilbo reminded himself that he was Baggins and Took both, bold and brave and ‘venturesome; and just in case he clung to Twibbity with one hand while he clutched onto Kili’s shirt with the other.  He lifted his chin high and looked at the king.

 

The king was looking at him, too; and when he met Bilbo’s eyes he sighed, and then he turned and spoke to Dís.

 

“It is the Baggins child,” he said.  Dís’ face was stern, but she looked angry with the king, not Bilbo.

 

“He believes you have banished his father,” she told him.  The king shook his head and sighed again, and then he spoke to the blond Dwarf.

 

“Let this be a lesson to you, Fili,” he said.  “Never do a favour for a friend while the crown rests on your head, lest you find you have waded into the coal dust wet; do not think it will not cling to you or the crown.  You may yet be reviled for a wise decision as for an unwise one; but you will sleep better, and fauntlings will have no cause to turn their mournful eyes on you.”  Then the king turned to Bilbo and knelt before him.

 

“I have not banished your father, Bilbo,” he said, “though I have come into your family quarrel where I did not belong, and for that I apologize.”

 

“You did banish-shed him,” Bilbo frowned.  “You said there was a treaty and then Da said he had to go.”  The king sighed again; he seemed to do that a lot.

 

“I was very wrong to have done so,” he said, “but I have not banished your father.  It is your father who has decided to leave.”  Bilbo looked deep into the king’s eyes; he didn’t seem to be lying.

 

“That makes no sense,” he told the king.  “Da wouldn’t leave if you weren’t making him.”  The king hid his face in his hands.

 

“Dropped wet into the coal dust,” he muttered.  He looked at Bilbo again and gently took his shoulders.  “It is not my place to speak to you of this, for it is your parents’ rightful place and their decisions; but I will say this:  I have wronged you, and I will rectify it.  I came to your family’s smial yesterday not to tell your father he must leave, but to tell him that he could not take you with him when he went.  I will remove myself—but it is a weighty decision you face now.”

 

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo said; but before the king could explain, the door burst open and Dwalin and Mama and Da came pouring through.

 

“Bilbo!” both his parents cried, and then Mama had her arms around him.

 

“What were you thinking, Bilbo Baggins?” she scolded.  “Coming all the way to Khazad-dûm, not telling your father where you were...  We have been frantic!  Frantic when we couldn’t find you!”

 

“I had to see the king,” Bilbo told her.  Dwalin threw his arms up into the air.

 

“Just as I told you, Bella,” he said.  “He kept saying he had to see the king, the imp; and then the next thing I knew he was gone.  He’s a fast _mimel_ too; he was out of sight before I was out of the guardhouse, and I was right behind him.”

 

“I’ll thank you not to call my son an imp,” Da said, polite but oh so cold, like when he had to speak to Aunt Camellia.  He had come forward so that his hand rested on Bilbo’s head, and when Bilbo looked up at him he wasn’t quite looking at Dwalin but more at the wall past his shoulder.  Da must really not like Dwalin.  He turned to face the king then, and his voice thawed a little, but only a little.  “We apologize to your Majesty for any inconvenience, and to you, ma’am,” here he bowed to Dís, and his tone when he spoke to her was much warmer.  “We’ll go now.”  He lifted Bilbo out of Mama’s arms, and Mama didn’t seem to want to let go of him, but she did.

 

“Hold,” the king said.  “I have made Bilbo a promise, and I will see it done.”  Da turned back to face the king.

 

“Surely your Majesty has more important matters to oversee than our family’s troubles,” he said calmly and coolly, though Bilbo could feel that his arms were trembling.  “We shall not bother you further.”

 

“I said hold!” the king roared, and Da stopped moving.  “Bilbo, come here.”  Bilbo looked at the king, who met his gaze seriously.  Bilbo could feel how reluctant Da was to put Bilbo back down in how slowly he moved, but he did; and Bilbo crossed the room to stand in front of the king.  The king knelt in front of him again.

 

“Your father is right,” he told Bilbo.  “Kings should stay out of families’ business.  But I have already interposed myself so with your family, and I will try to do right by you, Bilbo.  I offer you this choice.  Your father, of his own volition, leaves Hollin to go to the Shire.  Your mother chooses to remain here.  Which parent you will live with is your decision, and none will gainsay your right to do so.”  Someone gasped; Bilbo could not tell who.  He looked at the solemn king.

 

“I want to live with both my parents,” he said.  Briefly the king closed his eyes.

 

“If I could give you that, I would; but even kings have limits,” he said.  “I am afraid that you must choose.”  Bilbo frowned.

 

“I want to live with _both_ my parents,” he repeated.

 

“Bilbo...” Mama coaxed.  Bilbo turned to look at Mama, and then at Da, and they both looked so sad, but neither was arguing with the king.  He didn’t understand.

 

“I want to live with both of you!” he told them.  “Why can’t I live with both of you?”  Mama looked down at the floor but she didn’t say anything.  Da came forward to where Bilbo stood with the kneeling king.  He knelt down to talk to Bilbo as well.

 

“It’s my fault, Bilbo,” he told him.  “Your mama and I had a bad fight, and I’m still very angry about it.  We can’t live in the same house anymore.”

 

“What did you do?” Bilbo asked.  Da only shook his head, but Bilbo knew what that meant.  He turned to his mama.

 

“What did you do?” he asked her.  Mama started to cry, and Dwalin put his arms around her.  Bilbo turned his confused eyes back to the king.

 

“I want to live with my mama and my da both,” he said.  “I _can’t_ choose between them.”  The king nodded.

 

“We shall do what was decided last night,” he declared gravely.  “You will live with your mother in Hollin and Khazad-dûm nine months of the year, and in the summer months go to your father in the Shire.  And if at _any_ point you change your mind, Bilbo, you will come to me, and we will adjust these arrangements accordingly.”  He stood again and looked at Dwalin instead of Bilbo.  “In this way I regain the honour I lost when I wronged you, Bilbo Baggins; I will act as your champion in this.  I should never have interfered in the first place.”

 

Dwalin looked as if the king had struck him, and then he turned to Bilbo.

 

“It’s my fault, _mimel_ ,” he said.  “I was the one who—“  But Da interrupted him.

 

“My wife or I will be the ones to explain this to Bilbo,” Da said, though he still looked at the wall next to Dwalin’s head rather than Dwalin himself.  “In our own time and at our own discretion, if you please.”  Da’s voice...  Bilbo had _never_ heard Da’s voice sound so.  He hadn’t thought there was anyone Da disliked more than Aunt Camellia, but Dwalin...  Da _hated_ Dwalin.

 

Dwalin looked at Da, then, and his face still looked hurt and—something else, Bilbo wasn’t sure what.  He gently set Mama out of his arms and wiped away her tears with his knuckle, then he faced Da and drew a knife from its sheath at his belt.  Da stood and Bilbo thought he looked scared, but he finally looked Dwalin full in the face instead of over his shoulder at a spot on the wall.

 

Dwalin brought the knife to his cheek and began to shave off his beard.  There were indrawn breaths, and Mama began to cry softly again, but no one said a thing until Dwalin was done:  his face bare, bleeding some from places he’d nicked himself with the knife, his beard scattered in tufts on the ground.  He cut off one last lock, sheathed the knife again, and offered the lock to Da.

 

“I offer you this in recompense of my lost honour,” Dwalin told Da.  “I have wronged you greatly, Bungo Baggins; and my honour lies in pieces at your feet until such time as you allow me to offer apology and restitution.”  Da looked at Dwalin, then at the hair he still held out to Da, then shook his head.

 

“I don’t say that Dwarvish ways are wrong ways,” he said, “but they’re not Shire ways, and Shire ways are the only ways I know.  I can’t take that from you.  Your honour is yours to keep or not; and if you have lost it, I cannot give it back to you.”  Dwalin nodded curtly and lowered his hand, but instead of dropping the hair he turned to Bilbo.

 

“I have wronged you as well, Bilbo Baggins,” he said.  “I ask that you take this of me:  my honour is no longer mine but is your own, to do with as you see fit.”  Bilbo looked at Mama, but she still cried; and Da, but he looked at his feet instead of Bilbo.  So Bilbo looked over his shoulder at the king.

 

“Again:  this is your choice, Bilbo,” the king said.

 

“But what does it mean?” Bilbo asked.

 

“It means he wants to apologise to you,” the king said.  Bilbo nodded, then turned back to Dwalin and took the lock of hair.

 

“I accept your apology,” he told Dwalin solemnly, but the king shook his head.

 

“You do not, not yet,” he explained to Bilbo.  “At this moment, you offer him only the possibility of earning forgiveness.  He cannot redeem his honour so cheaply as that.  You will understand the wrong that was done to you before you grant his release from your service.”  Bilbo didn’t understand what the king meant at all, and perhaps Kili saw this, for he held out his hand to Bilbo.

 

“Come with me, _habankurdith_ ,” he said.  “We’ll find you an aglet for that and let the adults talk a while.”  Bilbo took Kili’s hand and followed him from the room, down a hall and into a bedroom.  A few moments later, the blond Dwarf—the king had called him Fili—entered the room as well.  Bilbo sat on the bed looking at them while Kili searched in a drawer for something.  Eventually he turned back to Bilbo with a little silver rectangle and a pair of crimpers in his hands.

 

“I don’t understand what it means,” Bilbo said.  “Why can’t Dwalin apologise now?  What did he do?  I thought Mama was the one who did something, and that’s what she and Da were fighting about.”  Kili sighed and handed the crimpers to Fili, then held his hand out to Bilbo.  Bilbo didn’t know what he wanted at first, but with a start he remembered that he still held Dwalin’s hair.  He put the lock of hair in Kili’s hand.  Kili took the hair, and balanced the silver rectangle on top of it, and held the hair carefully while Fili crimped the aglet to hold it fast.  When they were done, Kili handed the lock of hair, now contained in a thin silver tube, back to Bilbo.  Bilbo took it, but he bit his lip and continued to look at Kili.

 

“ _Habankurdith_ , I don’t know what Dwalin could have done, but I can tell you what you will need to do now,” Kili said.  Fili snorted derisively.

 

“You don’t?” he asked.  “What could Dwalin have possibly done, that his mother did as well, that has driven such a rift into a Hobbit marriage as to cause husband and wife to separate?”

 

“No!” Kili exclaimed, aghast.  “Not _Dwalin_!”

 

“Apparently yes, _Dwalin_ ,” Fili replied.  “I would never have thought it of him either, but... there is no other answer.”  They stood in silence for a short while, until Bilbo broke it again.

 

“What did he do?” Bilbo asked.  “And Mama?  Can you tell me?”  The brothers’ eyes met.  Kili sat down next to Bilbo on the bed and put his arm around him.

 

“It is as your _adad_ says, _habankurdith_ ,” he replied.  “Your parents, and only your parents, will choose the proper time and place to explain it.  It’s not our place to tell you.  But regarding Dwalin, I will tell you this:  you hold his honour as a Dwarf Lord in your hands.  Until you do know, and do understand, and either offer him forgiveness or a way to regain his honour...he has none.  It is yours.  And until then his beardless face will be a sign to all Dwarves who see him that he is honourless.”

 

Bilbo fiddled with the lock of hair.

 

“I don’t know what to do with it,” he told them.  Fili laughed, but it was not an unkind laugh.

 

“Put it in a drawer or mount it on the wall or bury it in the garden,” he said to Bilbo.  “Do with it as you would like.  It is only a symbol.”  Slowly Bilbo nodded and put it in his pocket.

 

“Thank you,” he said.  “I’m ready to go home now.”  Fili nodded, but Kili gathered Bilbo into his arms and balanced him on one hip again rather than set him down so that he might walk.

 

“I am glad to have met you,” Kili told Bilbo.  “I hope to see you again.  And I expect that I shall, now that my uncle is your champion.”  Bilbo looked at him curiously.

 

“Who is your uncle?” he asked.  “Will I meet him?”  Kili smiled at him, and Fili laughed again.

 

“You already have,” Fili said.  “Our uncle is Thorin, the king.”  Bilbo felt his eyes grow wide.

 

“Dwalin is his most trusted friend,” Kili added, but Fili shook his head.

 

“Dwalin _was_ his most trusted friend,” he disagreed.  “I don’t know what they are now.”  All three of them, Bilbo, Kili, and Fili, were quiet then until they rejoined the adults.  The adults were already quiet when they came into the room, so it was a very sober group.  Kili set Bilbo down on the ground.

 

“Your son is a bright gem, brave and sweet,” he told Mama and Da.  “No matter the circumstance, I am glad to know him.”

 

“Thank you,” Mama quietly replied.  “Thank you for watching over him.”  Da only nodded.  He held out his hand for Bilbo.  Bilbo went to him and took it, and they walked out of Khazad-dûm back down into Hollin.  The sky was dark, but the moon was full enough to light the road.  Bilbo and Da didn’t speak at all until Da was giving Bilbo one last tuck into bed and Bilbo reached out to grasp Da’s arm.

 

“Must you go, Da?” he asked.  Da’s eyes were so sad, but he nodded.

 

“I love you more than anything, Bilbo-button,” he said.  “If you ever decide it, I will welcome you to the Shire with open arms.  And I am glad that it will be your choice; you must do what makes you happiest.  I just...I can’t stay here with your mama anymore.  I will write you letters; and I will look forward to the summer, when you will come to visit me.  And we will have the next four days together, and we will try to make them happy.”  He pulled away a bit from Bilbo and looked at him sternly.  “But there will be no more running off to Khazad-dûm when you are supposed to be playing in the lane.”  Bilbo nodded, and Da kissed his forehead, snuffed the candle, and left the bedroom. 

 

Bilbo hugged Twibbity tight.  It had been good and bad, this day, he decided, but mostly bad.  He was mad at Da for leaving and at Mama and Dwalin for doing whatever it was they had done that hurt Da’s feelings so; and no matter what he did, Bilbo would only have one parent at a time now.  He had met the king, but it turned out kings couldn’t do as much as you would think.  What good was a king who couldn’t make das stay with their families?  But Mama must have done something so terribly awful, for Da was so forgiving, and loved her so much...he wouldn’t leave Bilbo and Mama, not ever...except he was.  It went round and round in Bilbo’s head until he was sobbing quietly into Twibbity’s fur, and then when his eyes burned and his head ached and he couldn’t cry anymore but he was so exhausted and tired from crying...Bilbo took Twibbity and his pillow and his blanket and crawled under the bed, and that was where his da found him the next morning, and every one of the next four mornings until the day he went to the Shire.

 

Mama came home that last morning, but she sat quietly and didn’t say anything as Da gathered the last of his things together.  Finally Da was ready to go.

 

“Bilbo may write care of my parents,” he told her.  “I’ll write to let him know when I’ve—if I’ve moved to my own smial.”  Mama nodded.

 

“I’m sorry, Bungo,” she said.  “I never meant to hurt you.”  Da huffed.

 

“Then what did you mean to do, Belladonna?” he asked exasperatedly, and his voice was hard under the anger.  Mama only shook her head.

 

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, crying softly as she did.  Da just turned away from her to Bilbo.

 

“Bilbo-button,” Da said, and held Bilbo tight as can be.  “I love you so, so much.  I’ll write when I get there, and I’ll tell you all the news of the Shire; and before you know it, it’ll be Forelithe, and you’ll be on your way to the Shire to come see me.”  Bilbo nodded and tried not to cry; but he couldn’t help it, and tears rolled steadily down his cheeks.

 

“I love you, Da,” he said.  Da squeezed Bilbo a little bit tighter, then kissed him on the forehead and let him go.  He smiled at Bilbo though his eyes were bright with tears, he nodded curtly to Mama, and then he went out the door and down the lane.  Bilbo tried to run after him, but Mama caught him and held him tight and would not let him go though Bilbo sobbed and pleaded.  She only held him in her arms and said, “It’s all right, Bilbo; it will be all right,” and “I’m sorry, button,” and Bilbo thought she might have cried too.  Finally he turned in her arms and hung tight to her neck.

 

Forelithe was almost six months away, and in that time, Bilbo had only a handful of letters from his da.  It took letters a long time to travel from the Shire to Hollin.  But Da’s letters were always cheerful and full of interesting stories about what he was doing, and Bilbo began to look forward to Forelithe not only because it would mean that he would see Da again but also to come to the Shire for its own sake.  And though Da was not a loud or boisterous Hobbit, it seemed quiet at home with only Bilbo and Ma.

 

But during that six months, Dwalin began to come by to visit as well, so that helped the smial seem less sad and still.  Bilbo had liked the great Dwarf when he had first met him, and Dwalin was always kind to Mama, which was good because Mama had fallen ill and she just didn’t get over it.  She was pale and more tired than usual, and picky about what she ate and about smells in the house—she stopped making anything with onions in it because they made her sick, and Bilbo _loved_ onions, and she stopped eating mushrooms too, which was positively unHobbity!  And sometimes she would leave whatever she was doing to rush to the bathroom, and though she closed the door, Bilbo could still hear her retching.  So it was good to have Dwalin around to help Bilbo take care of Mama since Da was gone.

 

About a week before Da was to arrive to take Bilbo back to the Shire with him, Mama asked him to sit in the parlour with her and Dwalin.  Bilbo went willingly enough, though he was eager to go back to playing; Mama didn’t try to make him sit and listen to boring grown up talk when visitors came for tea, so she must have something more interesting that she wanted him to hear.  And it turned out that she and Dwalin wanted to speak with Bilbo, rather than forcing him to listen quietly to them converse about things that didn’t matter to a five-year-old faunt.

 

Mama seemed a bit nervous, but she sat next to Dwalin and gestured to Bilbo to sit down, and she served him some warm milk with a little tea and his favourite ginger biscuits.

 

“I think you have become friends with Dwalin,” she began hesitantly.  Bilbo glanced from her to Dwalin and back again.  He liked Dwalin fine, but Dwalin spent a lot more time with Mama then he did with Bilbo.  Bilbo wasn’t sure he knew Dwalin any better now than he did when he first met him six months before.

 

“Dwalin’s nice,” he said politely.

 

“Dwalin is a good friend of mine as well,” Mama continued.  Bilbo nodded.  He had seen that that was true.  Bilbo thought Dwalin might be Mama’s best friend.  Some of her old friends had never come to visit since she returned from her ‘venture, and Dwalin was certainly the one who came the most.  Mama paused then, and quietly reached her hand out to clasp Dwalin’s in her own.  “There will be some big changes for all of us when you return from the Shire in the fall, Bilbo.  Dwalin has a home in Khazad-dûm, and he will continue to live there...but he will also spend some time here with us in Hollin, and we with him in Khazad-dûm.”  Bilbo looked at Mama quizzically.  Dwalin already spend time with them in Hollin, so only their going to visit him in Khazad-dûm was new, and he told her so.  Mama grimaced slightly.

 

“That is not precisely what I mean, button,” she said.  “I mean that Dwalin is going to become a part of our family; and we, a part of his.”  That made no sense to Bilbo.  He had a big family already, here and in the Shire, two grandmothers and grandfathers still living, large numbers of aunts and uncles and innumerable cousins; but those were all Hobbits, not Dwarves, and Dwalin was a Dwarf.  How could a Dwarf be related to a Hobbit, except if they married each other?

 

“How can we?” he asked.  “He isn’t related to us; he can’t be family.”  Belatedly Bilbo realised that might seem rude to Dwalin; and indeed, Mama was frowning.  “I don’t mean—beg your pardon, Dwalin.”

 

“Bilbo,” Mama said patiently.  “Dwalin and I are getting married.”  Bilbo looked blankly at Mama.  He had already thought it, hadn’t he:  _How could a Dwarf be related to a Hobbit, except if they married each other?_  

 

“You and Da are already married,” Bilbo told her.

 

“Yes,” Mama said, “but we live apart now, and I...I have come to love Dwalin dearly, and he loves me as well.” 

 

“Oh,” Bilbo said.  He could see that Mama was a little bit disappointed with that response, but Bilbo didn’t know what to say.  He wasn’t sure he wanted Mama to marry Dwalin—it wasn’t that they would be _spending time_ together; they would _live_ together.  And Bilbo had been hoping that when Da came from the Shire, he would say that he had forgiven Mama and was ready to live with them again.  He didn’t see how that could happen if Mama and Dwalin were married.  But Bilbo didn’t have anything else to say, and after a while Mama continued.

 

“There is something else that will be new for our family when you come back,” she said.  “Bilbo, how would you like to have a little baby brother or sister?”  Bilbo thought about it.  It might be nice to have a playmate, but you couldn’t really play with babies.  And...

 

“Where would the baby live?” he asked.

 

“When it is very young, in my room with me; and when it is a little older, the yellow room near the garden would make a nice nursery, I think.”  Bilbo thought some more.

 

“Would I have to share my toys?” he asked.  Mama twinkled at him a little bit.

 

“Not at first, no; but once the baby is old enough, you might have to share some of your toys.  Some special toys, like Twibbity, of course, would remain yours alone,” she answered.

 

“All my toys are special,” Bilbo informed her seriously.  Mama laughed outright; and Dwalin, who had been quiet until now, snorted.

 

“We’ll discuss it when the time comes,” Mama said.  Bilbo supposed that would have to do.  When Mama used that tone of voice, it was no use arguing.

 

“If the baby is a girl, we should name it Flower; and if it is a boy, we should name it Weed,” Bilbo suggested.  “When will you go get the baby?  This summer while I am in the Shire?”  Suddenly Dwalin looked very uncomfortable, and even Mama took a deep breath.

 

“That’s a little complicated for a five-year-old fauntling,” Mama said.  “But what you need to know is that the baby is growing inside me.  The baby is a little piece of the mama and a little piece of the papa put together, and it will grow inside me until it is ready to be born.”  Bilbo’s eyes grew wide.  Babies...Babies came from _inside_ people’s bodies?  Mama had a baby inside of her already?

 

“How does it _do_ that?” Bilbo asked wonderingly.  “How does it come _out_?”  Mama sighed.

 

“That’s some of the complicated part,” she told him.  “You don’t need to worry about that part yet.  My body makes a space for the baby to grow in, and takes care of the baby until it’s ready to be born, and when it’s ready, there’s a way for it to come out.”  Bilbo had never really thought before about how babies were made or where they came from, but this was some of the strangest...

 

“Does it crawl out of your mouth?” he asked.  _Oh!_   “Does your body _make_ a hole for the baby to come out?”  Dwalin started to chuckle, and Mama turned pink as could be.

 

“No, Bilbo,” she said with some asperity.  “It doesn’t matter right now.”

 

“Yes, Mama,” Bilbo said.  “But...”  Mama took a deep breath in and then out.

 

“Yes, button?” she said.

 

“What _part_ of the papa do you make the baby with?  And won’t Da be mad that you made a baby without asking him?” Bilbo asked.  Mama took another deep breath.

 

“We’ll talk about the parts when you are a little older,” Mama said.  “And your da is not the baby’s father.  Dwalin is.”  Oh.  That was strange.

 

“So the papa part came from Dwalin?” Bilbo asked, and Mama nodded.  He thought about that.

 

“The baby will be a Dwobbit,” Bilbo said after a while.

 

“Yes,” Mama replied.  “Is that a problem?”

 

“No,” Bilbo said.  It didn’t seem like that big a change to him.  And Mama clearly was not going to answer any of the _interesting_ questions about it.  “Can I go play now?”  Mama and Dwalin looked at each other.  Bilbo thought they looked a little bit relieved.

 

And just before Da came to take Bilbo to the Shire for the summer, Mama and Dwalin were married while Bilbo and an older Dwarf who turned out to be Dwalin’s brother watched, and then it was time for Da.

 

Bilbo was so happy to see Da again, and Da to see him; and while it was a little bit scary going on such a long trip, it was also exciting; it was the furthest Bilbo had ever been from home, and he had only been once before, when he was too young to remember.  It was his first real ‘venture—well, his second, he supposed; going to Khazad-dûm to see the king had been a proper ‘venture, after all.  And all along the way, Da told him about Gram and Grandpappy and all his cousins who were so excited to see him again, and all the places he could go in the Shire; and Bilbo told him all about what he had done in Hollin since Da went to the Shire.

 

Life was different for Bilbo than it had been before, but he thought it was not as different as he would have predicted it would be.  He would never ever have imagined that Da would not live with them anymore, and he missed him dreadfully; but he was here with Da now, and after all, Mama had been gone on her ‘venture a long time.  It was a lot like that, really.  And Dwalin visited a lot, so that wouldn’t be so different than it had been, and how much difference could a baby make?  Babies were so little.

 

Really, life hadn’t changed so much.  Bilbo was still Bilbo, and Mama and Da were the same, and Hollin was just at the mountain while the Shire was...was in the Shire.  He wasn’t going to be sad about the ways his life had changed; being sad didn’t help.  And they weren’t such big changes; not _too_ much had changed.  So Bilbo held Da’s hand and chattered to him as they journeyed, and determinedly looked forward to his summer in the Shire.  For the summer he could pretend to be Da’s and live with him in the Shire, while Mama was off on a ‘venture, and would be coming home in the fall.  And it would be a ‘venture for him, too; he would make sure of it.  The Shire was a whole new place to explore, and he would have cousins to play with, and he would have Da now and Mama in the fall.

 

He just wasn’t sure where home was, anymore. 

 

And it hurt a little bit not to know, to feel like his home had scattered into pieces along the Greenway between Hollin and the Shire.  He thought it would probably get better with time, but for now...he was going on a ‘venture, but he wasn’t going home anytime soon.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mimel—little of littles, medune—entry, habankurdith—gem heart (an awful cobbling together of two Neo-Khuzdul words into my own creation)


End file.
